Shadowed Storms
by krenya-alenak
Summary: A servant should not be noticed. But Kahl is opinionated, sometimes to Draco's annoyance, and stubborn, also sometimes to his annoyance. She's definitely not your ordinary servant, even if no one else notices her. Not romance.
1. Arrival

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, but Kahl is my character.  
  
—  
  
A Shadowed Storm  
  
—  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Blemished Arrival  
  
—  
  
Kahl stumbled through the stinging rain. She ran into a tree, and a dull pain shot through her shoulder. She grunted and pushed herself away from the tree. The rain increased, pelting her bare arms and face. The sound of trees swaying in the wind faded, leaving only the rush of the wind, the splatter of the rain, and Kahl's heavy footsteps and ragged breathing. She forced her feet to move, one in front of the other, one arm raised to keep the rain off her face. Her sword hung heavy in her hand, its tip catching on the matted grasses underfoot. A shadow loomed out of the darkness.  
  
Kahl staggered up rain-slick steps. One foot caught on her other leg, and she tripped forward, landing against a wall. She felt along the wall; her hand touched a doorframe and then the cold metal of a handle. She turned the handle and fell against the door, landing heavily on a carpeted floor. She coughed hard, hacking rainwater out of her throat. She rolled away; her muscles gave out. She lay on the thick carpet, her body unwilling to respond. In her mind she shrugged; it didn't matter anymore.  
  
"What—" There was a gasp and the sound of feet running away. "Master!"  
  
Kahl winced at the shriek. She coughed again and settled back on the carpet. The light footsteps returned, accompanied by a steady, firm tread. "What are you babbling about? You know I do not like to be disturbed."  
  
"But, Master Malfoy—"  
  
The footsteps stopped. Kahl considered opening her eyes; she decided not to.  
  
The footsteps moved closer to Kahl and stopped beside her. There was a moment of blessed silence, except for the rain-laden wind outside the open door. "Get her upstairs. Inform me if she wakes."  
  
There was a pause, and Kahl's sword moved in her hand. She lunged, clutching the thief's wrist, and her eyes snapped open. Pale, cold eyes looked back at her out of the proud face framed by long, white hair. Malfoy. Now she recognized the name. She lay back and relaxed her grip on Lucius Malfoy's arm and on her sword hilt. The sword was removed from her grasp. Her eyelids ached, so she closed them. There were muttered words, and she felt the carpet fall away. But she didn't follow it, though there was nothing under her. Oh, right, they'd said Wingardium Leviosa. Was that the spell? Her thoughts were fuzzy, disconnected. Maybe it was Enervate, or Stupify, or Ridikulus . . .  
  
—  
  
Draco glanced after the maid steering the prone form up the stairs. He turned. "Father? What's going on?"  
  
Lucius glanced after the maid, and he looked at the sword in his hand. Draco followed his gaze. The weapon was shining as much from rainwater as from cleanliness, except for the blood settled in the engraved hilt. Lucius turned to his son. "Did you recognize her?"  
  
The tall, blond seventeen-year-old shook his head. "I didn't really see her face."  
  
Lucius walked towards his study. "Do not worry about it."  
  
Draco sighed, and he returned to the library. Parchments and books were spread over the main table, his eagle quill standing in the inkwell. He bent his head over his book and continued reading.  
  
Two hours later, Draco looked up at the clock. It was only eleven in the morning. This was going to be a long day. He bit his lip, and he put his quill in the inkwell and stood up. He quietly left the library, glancing down the hall. From there it was a short walk to the carpeted stairs, up the landing, and to the first door on the left. Draco opened the door; the room was empty. He tried the next one down. A fire was burning in the hearth, and on the bed was a still figure. Draco slipped in and walked over to the bed. It was a girl, bandages on her arms, her hair escaping from its braid. Her breathing was the deep breath of sleep, but her expression was closed, eyes tightly shut and mouth pursed. She looked familiar. . . .  
  
Draco stepped back. It was the courier. She'd come by only a week ago with a message for his father. No wonder his father had given her shelter.  
  
'This would probably be a good time to leave,' Draco thought. He slowly backed away from the courier and towards the door. He turned to leave and ran into the maid. He clapped a hand over her mouth before she could make any sound. "Silence. Does my father know I'm up here?"  
  
She shook her head, her eyes wide.  
  
"Don't feel any need to tell him. Understand?"  
  
Nod.  
  
Draco released her. "Don't worry. I was just curious."  
  
"But your father said no one was to disturb her."  
  
Draco narrowed his eyes at the maid. "I didn't disturb her, and you will not mention this to my father. Understood?"  
  
She nodded slowly.  
  
"Good." Draco brushed past her.  
  
As he walked back to the library, his mind was very busy, working over the images of the courier, fast asleep but far from relaxed; the storm of that morning; and the sword, clean except for the crimson filigree of the hilt.  
  
—  
  
Darkness descended around her, wind tearing at her hair and clothes.  
  
"We know what you are, so don't even try to deceive us."  
  
Bolts of light, red and green. Shouted words and flaming steel. Lightning racing down the trunk of a tree, spewing bark everywhere. White snake sweeping through her. Water, rain, life source . . .  
  
Blackness.  
  
—  
  
Kahl felt metal being forced between her lips, and warm liquid was tipped down her throat. She swallowed, and she tried to open her eyes. They refused. She relaxed against the arm under her shoulders. A hand was laid on her forehead. "Are you awake?" a gentle voice asked.  
  
Kahl grunted; it was all she could manage. The spoon was pushed into her mouth again, and she swallowed the broth more readily. It was some time before she heard the click of the spoon being laid on a wooden surface. She tried again to look. Her eyelids cracked open. A black-haired girl looked back at her, the girl's hair mostly covered by a mobcap, her simple dress immaculate. Kahl's eyes closed again.  
  
The arm lowered her back against the pillow. "I'll be back," the girl said. There were the sounds of movement and the opening and closing of a door.  
  
Kahl relaxed. How long had she been there? Where was she? Something stirred in her mind, forcing itself up through the cobwebs of fatigue. The girl's voice . . . and her master. Lucius Malfoy. Kahl suppressed a sigh. Why the Malfoys? 


	2. Introductions

Disclaimer: I do not own HP. Kahl (whose name may change) is my character, as well as Sarah and some of the spells and books, namely Magick of Warfare. Please respect that.  
  
Author's Note: Mistress Pirate, I attend BYU-I. I would have e-mailed you except that, like myself, you do not post your addy. ( I don't know you, I think, but I am interested in meeting you. Could you please e-mail me at blackphoenix48juno.com? My name's Laura.  
  
Enjoy, everyone!  
  
-----  
  
Chapter 2  
  
It must have been evening when Kahl woke at the sound of the door opening; a firm tread stopped beside the bed. Her eyes cracked open, and they widened slightly. Malfoy stood over her, his face clear of all emotion. "You are Kahl Rabrek?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"I will send word to the Dark Lord that you are here."  
  
Kahl managed another weary bob of her head, and Malfoy turned to someone. "Take care of her." He walked away, still giving the maid instructions, his voice too low to make out the words. Kahl pursed her lips. Of all the Deatheaters, Lucius Malfoy was one of those she disliked the most. She shrugged mentally; he was also one of the ones who'd afford her the best shelter and care, if he chose to. Which he apparently had. It seemed a concern for appearances did have benefits.  
  
-----  
  
It was barely the second week in July. Almost two months to Hogwarts. Draco smiled slightly; only one more year at that school, befouled with Muggle blood. Draco barely noticed the maid hurrying past him towards the owlery. He entered the library and stopped, breathing in the smell of parchment and leather covers. He went over to one of the bookshelves and pulled out Magick of Warfare. The cover of the massive volume was stained; he opened it to reveal the pages, almost cloth-like in their worn condition. The ink, black text and colored pictures, was faded but visible. Draco sat down in the armchair by the tall windows, and he continued his reading.  
  
He looked up at the clock; three hours had already gone by. He closed the book and replaced it on the shelf, and he left the library. The maid passed him, a glass of milk in her hand. She went up the stairs and vanished into the second room. Draco stepped into a shadowed alcove near the foot of the stairs. It was a good ten minutes, though, before the maid came back down the stairs. As she turned down another corridor, Draco slipped up the steps and into the room.  
  
He'd been up there a few times since he'd first seen the courier, but she had always been sleeping. Now she was still asleep; but her face was smooth, not shut fast as it had always been before. Draco sat in a chair that was next to the bed. The girl had to be around his age, maybe a year older or younger. Draco frowned. 'If she is a witch, though, I'd have seen her at Hogwarts. Well, not if she's in another house,' he thought. He studied her face. 'No. I've only seen her bringing messages here.'  
  
Draco stood and left.  
  
-----  
  
A few days after she first woke up, Kahl was sitting against the headboard, watching Sarah clean the room. The maid glanced over. "Do you want something to do?" she asked.  
  
Kahl smiled. "Please."  
  
"I could get you writing materials. Or books. Master Malfoy has a big library." Sarah's voice dropped. "Then again, I don't know if he'd allow it."  
  
Kahl frowned slightly to herself.  
  
"But I'll see what I can do," Sarah added.  
  
Kahl nodded. "Oh. I . . . Thank you."  
  
Sarah finished straightening the room, and left. Ten minutes later, she returned, a slim volume in her hand. She gave it to Kahl, who read the scripted title, Quidditch Through the Ages . "Thanks."  
  
-----  
  
Draco ran a finger along the books. "Care of Your Broomstick, Snitches of Legend—" He stopped at a gap in the books. "Odd. Maybe Father needed it." He shook his head and moved on, taking down From Shooting Star to Firebolt: A History of Broomsticks.  
  
-----  
  
When Draco entered the library the next morning, he glanced over at the shelf. Quidditch Through the Ages was back in its place; but Snitches of Legend was gone. Draco frowned. "Maybe it's the maid, but if she's reading, she has far too much time on her hands."  
  
-----  
  
Each morning, the missing book was back in place, and a new book was missing. Then for a few days, the shelf was undisturbed, and Draco was able to read his books without the mystery of a missing book running through his head. Instead, it was just the mystery of why they had been missing. One rainy morning, Draco entered the library. He looked around the large, leather and parchment-smelling room. "I haven't read Magick of Warfare for some days, and I want to finish it before school starts." He went over to get the massive tome.  
  
It was gone. 


	3. Magick in Warfare

Disclaimer: I do not own HP. Kahl (whose name may change) is my character, as well as Sarah and some of the spells and books, namely Magick of Warfare. Please respect that.  
  
Author's Note: Yes, I know the chapters are short. I may combine them, especially if the story becomes too long and would have ten thousand chapters. ;-) Exaggerating. Please read and review! Down, at the bottom, the little button that says Go. Or else Draco will haunt you!  
  
Is that necessarily a threat? Hm....  
  
-----  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Draco paced the library. The maid entered and curtseyed. "You called, young master?"  
  
Draco pointed at the shelf. "Books were going missing a few days ago. They're back. But where is Magick of Warfare?"  
  
The maid went pale. "Up—upstairs."  
  
"Upstairs?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"What is it doing up there?"  
  
Her eyes darted around the room. "Um . . ."  
  
"What is it doing up there?" he snapped.  
  
"The . . . the courier is reading it. She had nothing to do, sir, and I . . . that is, she asked if there wasn't something she could do, since she's not well enough to move around yet, and . . ."  
  
Draco's eyes narrowed, and he swept out of the library and up to the guest room. As he stormed into the room, the courier looked up from Magick of Warfare. Her face hardened, jade eyes glinting as he came up to the bedside, his grey eyes glaring.  
  
He held out his hand. "The book," he said.  
  
The courier looked down at the volume, and her expression softened. She ran a hand over the page, shut the tome, and handed it to him. He took it and stalked out of the room.  
  
When he entered the library, the maid was still there, her face pale. "You're dismissed."  
  
"Sir." She curtseyed and ran out.  
  
Draco sat down and opened the book to where the courier had been reading, in the tenth chapter. He frowned and looked in the direction of the stairs. He walked out of the library, back to the guest room.  
  
"Did you actually read the first nine chapters?"  
  
The courier raised her eyebrows at Draco. "Sir?"  
  
He stopped by her bed. "Did you read the first nine chapters?"  
  
She nodded. "Yes, sir."  
  
He pursed his lips. "Because you were bored or because you enjoyed it? Tell me the truth."  
  
"Both."  
  
"But you did enjoy it?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Why?"  
  
She breathed deeply. "Because . . . it's interesting."  
  
"Did you understand it?"  
  
The courier drew herself upright, her eyes flashing; then she subsided. "Yes, sir."  
  
Draco considered the chair beside the bed. He drew it back slightly and sat down. "What was your favorite part?"  
  
"From what I've read so far, the countercurses and shield spells."  
  
"They're useful in their own way, but the attacks are more powerful."  
  
"Of course," the courier said evenly.  
  
"What do you mean, of course?"  
  
She paused. "Actually, only some of the attacks are more powerful."  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"The fire spells will cut through many of the weaker shields. On the other side, lightning spells are very effective, but most of them can be warded off with a simple reflective shield."  
  
Draco nodded slowly. "But it's hard to know where a lightning spell will come from."  
  
"Not—" She shut her mouth.  
  
He frowned. "Not what? That isn't a request."  
  
"Not if you know how to read the air. The currents shift unless the lightning spell is cast to run along the existing currents."  
  
"How do you know that?"  
  
"Studying."  
  
Draco looked down at the book. "I'm reading this right now, but I can have the maid bring it back up here when I am done reading it for the day. As long as I have it back by tomorrow morning, you can read it this evening."  
  
The courier's mouth twitched. "Thank you, sir."  
  
Draco regarded the courier. Her eyes were brighter, the irises somewhat clearer. He left. 


	4. Hardships

Disclaimer: I do not own HP. Kahl (whose name may change) is my character, as well as Sarah and some of the spells and books, namely Magick of Warfare. Please respect that.  
  
Author's Note: Please review. I really want to know if you guys think I keep the characters well.  
  
-----  
  
Chapter 4

Hardships

A couple mornings after, Draco returned to the guestroom, _Magick of Warfare_ in hand. The courier was still eating her breakfast. He sat down in the chair, and he began reading silently. She put aside her bread. "Yes, sir?"  
  
"How far have you read?"  
  
"I started chapter 12 last night."  
  
"Sieges."  
  
She nodded.  
  
"What did you think of 11?"  
  
"I . . . did not like it as much as some of the other chapters."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Pestilence curses are . . . Weakening an enemy with disease rather than actual combat does not . . . seem like true warfare to me."  
  
"You would rather face your opponent head-on."  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Why?"  
  
The courier considered. "For one thing, it's more of a challenge. You have to use your skills directly against theirs, without knowing for sure how they'll respond. You have to be thinking ahead at every moment so they don't take your feet from under you." Her eyes fell to her breakfast.  
  
"And with the pestilence curses?"  
  
"Mere human strength and even the highest sword skills are no match for disease. The curses could only be fought with a countercurse or healing magic, or medicines."  
  
"It's effective," Draco said.  
  
"It's an easy road—" The courier's mouth clamped shut.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
She poked her bread with her knife.  
  
"You were saying?" he said.  
  
"It doesn't matter."  
  
"If I say it matters, it does. What were you going to say?"  
  
"I spoke out of place, sir." The courier continued to look at her breakfast.  
  
Draco pursed his lips. "Very well." He stood, book in hand, and left.  
  
-----  
  
Kahl nodded and braced her hands against the edge of the bed. She pushed herself up. Her knees buckled, and she fell back onto the bed. "Here, let me help you." The maid put her arm around Kahl's shoulders. Kahl tried standing again, Sarah pulling her slowly to her feet. She leaned against the maid's arm, and she straightened her legs as best she could. She slid her right foot forward over the carpet. "Good," Sarah said. Kahl put her weight on the forward foot and, Sarah moving with her, dragged the left foot up past the right. She shuffled to the edge of the desk that sat in the back corner of the room, and she sank into the chair, her breath short and raspy. "You're healing well," Sarah said.  
  
"I've been lying in bed for three weeks," Kahl replied.  
  
"You needed it. But you already walked, and on your first try."  
  
"Second. I tried last night after everyone had gone to bed."  
  
Sarah's eyes widened. "But, miss, you—" She stopped.  
  
"It's all right. And you're probably correct, but I'm stubborn. It's one of my biggest faults." She looked around. "I think I'll just sit for a couple of minutes."  
  
The maid curtseyed. "Call me if you need anything." She took the breakfast tray and left.  
  
Kahl sighed. Her muscles ached, and her head pounded. 'Just wait a minute,' she thought. 'Rest when you can, and gather your strength.' She shifted and groaned. 'And I need to.'  
  
After a few minutes, Kahl pulled herself upright, the hard wooden edge of the desk digging into her palms. She reached out, placing a hand against the wall, and she dragged her feet forward. As she released the desk, her legs gave way. With a strangled cry, she slid down the wall and onto the floor. She reached for the desk, but she ground her teeth and started pulling herself across the floor. Hands out, lift body up, lever forward . . . Finally she made it to the bed, crawled between the covers, and huddled into the blankets, trying to soothe her sore muscles. She pulled the blanket over her head, and tears streamed down her cheeks.  
  
Kahl heard the door open, and she scrubbed her eyes with her sleeve. There were footsteps and the slight creak of the chair, then the flipping of pages. Then silence. She curled up even tighter. She closed her eyes against the tears, but they continued to come.  
  
"Courier."  
  
Kahl winced at Malfoy's cold voice, an untempered version of his father's tones. She scrubbed her eyes against the sleeve of the pajamas she had been wearing since she'd woken from her exhausted sleep, a week before. More tears welled up, but she blinked them back.  
  
"Courier?"  
  
Kahl ran her hand over her face, breathed deeply, and eased herself upright, pulling the blankets off her head. Draco Malfoy looked at her, his eyebrows knitting. She looked down in imitation of a bow. "Forgive my tardiness in responding. My weakness has not completely left me."  
  
Malfoy's expression smoothed. "Defensive strategies."  
  
She began to recite. 


	5. Return

Disclaimer: I do not own HP. Kahl (whose name may change) is my character, as well as Sarah and some of the spells and books. Please respect that.  
  
Author's Note: Sorry it took so long, and please tell me if you have any suggestions!  
  
-----  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Return  
  
'Finally.' Kahl pulled on her jacket over her back harness bearing the sword, and she bowed to Lucius Malfoy. She looked at the short, round figure within the door, and she turned back to the elder Malfoy. "Your conduct shall not go unnoticed." She bowed once more. As she straightened, she glanced towards Sarah, and past her, up the stairs. Draco Malfoy stood at the top of the steps, his eyes dark in the shadows. She turned her gaze to Lucius. "Good day, sir."  
  
She walked to Peter the rat, and he nodded to Lucius. "We are most pleased you kept the Dark Lord's courier safe," he said, his voice quick. Lucius raised one eyebrow, and Peter nodded. "Well, ah, yes. Come on, servant." He glared at Kahl, then turned and stalked out the open door. She bit back a sigh and followed.  
  
-----  
  
That evening, Kahl and Peter rested within the edge of a forest. "I thought you made your journeys within three days. Yet you keep resting. We should be closer to the manor than this."  
  
Kahl glared at the rabbit she was skinning. She breathed steadily, then turned to Peter as he wiped sweat off his brow with a grubby sleeve. "Sir, I can not travel as usual until I have completely recovered and regained my strength." She spitted the rabbit and steadied the stick on the makeshift stands. She breathed gently on the fire, and the flames brightened, licking up the sides of the ash logs.  
  
Peter wrapped up in his cloak, moaning. Kahl settled before the fire, her eyes focused on the cooking meat, and she released her mind. There was the balding man behind her, of course, but there was the forest around her. Birds chirped in the trees, a brook was babbling only meters away, a deer stopped in the field they had just left...  
  
Kahl turned the spit, her focus still on her surroundings, on everything real. Empty thoughts could neither distract her nor be read. And it allowed her to ignore her companion.  
  
-----  
  
They reached the manor the next day just before noon. Peter gasped as he struggled up the path to the kitchen door. Kahl forced herself to walk a step behind him. Considering the fatigue weighing her down, it wasn't as difficult as normal. Considering his fatigue, it was still difficult. Kahl shook her head. 'Be nice. I doubt he's had training similar to yours.'  
  
They entered through the large kitchen, and Peter led the way upstairs to the Dark Lord's chamber. "Master, I have returned with the courier."  
  
"Bring her in here."  
  
At the cold voice issuing through the room, Kahl had to tense to not shiver. Peter stepped aside, and she walked around the high armchair to face the Dark Lord. She bowed.  
  
"What happened, Rembrak?" Voldemort said softly. His pet snake raised her head to look at Kahl, and she flicked her black tongue out, tasting the air.  
  
Kahl kept her eyes firmly fixed on Nagini, and she told Voldemort the story. She had arrived at Nott's manor to deliver the message from Voldemort, and MacNair, whose home she would have visited next, arrived shortly after. Not even fifteen minutes after MacNair's arrival, they were attacked by six Ministry Unspeakables. Though the fight was one of confusion and chance, due to one stray spell collapsing the mantelpiece into the fire, the fight was also quick in the small living room.  
  
Voldemort cut into her explanation. "And why did you not fight? Is that not part of your...recommendations?"  
  
"I did, until I saw that Nott and MacNair had been defeated and killed. At that point, I felt my duties to you would be best preserved by leaving before they could note my appearance."  
  
Kahl waited, muscles relaxed, mind full of the memories of the fight, as Voldemort's breath hissed through his nostrils. Minutes ticked by, and her mind opened. Room, coals in the fireplace, rustling of dry snake scales....  
  
"How did they find them?"  
  
"I believe they followed MacNair. I had not yet delivered him his message, but he told the others that he had come from his house."  
  
A snake's mustiness slid over her mind. Another few minutes passed, and then...  
  
"The fool," Voldemort snarled. "And then, courier? What did you do?"  
  
"I escaped badly wounded. I finally found my way to the Malfoy manor, where they had my wounds cared for."  
  
"By whom?"  
  
"Their maid, I believe."  
  
The feeling of scales slid over her thoughts again, then vanished. "Very well. Go."  
  
Kahl deepened in her bow before backing out of Voldemort's sight. She turned and walked out, head down, not even looking at Peter. She went to a tiny staircase and followed it upwards to a small hall. She entered her room under the front eaves of the roof, and she closed the door tightly. She shed jacket, sword harness, boots, and socks, and she collapsed on her bed with a sigh of relief. She was soon asleep.  
  
-----  
  
When Kahl woke, a quick glance out the window revealed the house's shadow stretched down the hill towards the woods, and the village beyond with lights blinking into wakefulness.  
  
Kahl stretched, and her stomach rumbled. She pulled on her jacket, and she slid a small metal rectangle from the spindly dresser to the jacket pocket. She pulled the sheathed sword from the harness and left the room. She padded downstairs to the cavernous kitchen, and she assembled and ate a sandwich. Then it was to a small study on the first floor, barefoot on the cool, hardwood boards. Kahl drew her sword, tossing the sheath to the side of the sunlit room. Salute, lunge, parry, thrust, swipe, block....  
  
She continued even as the sun set, leaving her in dim twilight, her joints beginning to ache. As night drew on, she slowed her practices, her muscles burning with fatigue. Finally, she sheathed her sword and sat down under the slightly open window. A breeze whispered through the crack. Cool air, wind-whispering grass, an owl's hoot, rustling in the grass, too small to be a rat. She dug the metal rectangle from her jacket pocket. She looked for a moment at the mirror, her face pale and drawn in its surface. She swallowed, relaxing her face into the mask of indifference, and she whispered to the mirror.  
  
"Albus Dumbledore."  
  
The mirror grew warm under her fingers, and light shone gently from its surface, revealing a bearded face in a firelit office, blue eyes watching her from behind half-moon spectacles. "Kahl, are you all right?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"I'm fine. I do not believe he suspects." 


	6. Path to Death

Disclaimer: I do not own HP. Kahl (whose name may change) is my character, as well as Sarah and some of the spells and books, namely Magick of Warfare. Please respect that.  
  
Author's Note: Sorry it took so long. I went on a trip, among other things. But here are two chappies, which are, of course, subject to editing. Please tell me whatcha think!  
  
-----  
  
Chapter 6

The Path to Death

-----  
  
It was long since dark when the train bearing students home for Christmas break pulled into Platform 9 ¾, and it was close to midnight when Draco and his father finally arrived home. As they entered the vast hall, the maid appeared. Draco handed her his bags, and she vanished. Lucius headed for his study.  
  
Draco breathed deeply. "Father."  
  
Lucius turned back. "Yes?"  
  
"You said you'll be gone tomorrow evening. Can I come?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because you're not ready." Lucius's hard eyes glared at Draco, and the older man started walking away.  
  
"I am."  
  
Lucius heaved a sigh and turned around. "I would hope so, but I have my doubts. Are you really prepared to shed blood?"  
  
Draco squared his shoulders. "Yes."  
  
Lucius regarded Draco. "You had better be sure by tomorrow night." He walked off.  
  
Draco shivered suddenly in the cold, torchlit hall. He shook himself, rolled his eyes, and went up to his rooms.  
  
-----  
  
Kahl watched the masked Deatheaters entering the ballroom from the corner by the staircase. She snorted softly to herself. Fine use for a ballroom.  
  
There was one more person than normal. The face was unmasked except by the shadows thrown by the black hood. The frame was square and straight, male. Kahl's brow furrowed as she noted the man's height, width, and gait. It was very familiar.... He was the same height as the Deatheater on his other side, but slimmer. He held the same haughty bearing as his companion, as well. Kahl's breath caught in her throat. She shook herself. Great. Another Deatheater to be prepared for.  
  
As Draco looked the other way, talking to his father, Kahl stood and left, striding rapidly down the hall.  
  
-----  
  
Draco stood in the center of the room, Deatheaters around him in an incomplete circle. He swallowed hard as Voldemort walked towards him. Red eyes stared out of the wizard's scaly visage. "This boy seeks to become one of us?" he said.  
  
No one answered. After a minute of silence, Draco bowed. "Yes, master."  
  
"Are you willing to shed blood?"  
  
"Yes, master."  
  
Voldemort laughed dryly. "We shall see. First you must prove yourself."  
  
"I stand ready to follow your commands."  
  
"Not now. The time is not right." Voldemort studied Draco. "Once we have an appropriate trial prepared, I shall summon you. You are dismissed."  
  
-----  
  
"Servant."  
  
Kahl groaned softly. She rolled out of her bed and bowed. "Yes, sir?"  
  
"The Dark Lord desires you to deliver this message."  
  
Kahl took the scroll from Wormtail's silvery hand. "Yes, sir," she said. Wormtail left, and Kahl checked the scroll's seal. It was the seal of the serpent under a bush, fangs bared. Kahl rolled her weary eyes. Rubbing a hand across them, she shrugged on her leather vest and jean jacket, and strapped on her back harness. She slid her sheathed sword into place, put the scroll in a pouch over her right shoulder, and left.  
  
Outside the decrepit mansion, the night sky glittered with stars. Kahl's breath streamed out in a cloud before her. She shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and struck out down the road.  
  
-----  
  
It was the next afternoon when Kahl finally arrived, emerging from the woods onto the side lawn. She walked across the grass to a side door, and she knocked firmly. Sarah opened the door, and she smiled. "Kahl."  
  
Kahl nodded. "Sarah. Is Master Malfoy home?"  
  
"No, he's getting the young master from the train."  
  
"I'll have to wait for them, then."  
  
"Of course." Sarah stepped back, and Kahl entered the kitchen. "Are you hungry?" Sarah asked.  
  
"A little, thanks." Kahl sat down. "So young Master Malfoy is coming home from school?"  
  
"Yes. He graduated this year."  
  
"Good for him."  
  
Sarah set a sandwich and glass of milk before Kahl. "There you go. I need to get some work done, so..."  
  
"Understood, and thank you."  
  
-----  
  
Draco entered the house behind his father. "I'm sure they'll take you at the Ministry. I'll speak with Fudge on Monday," Lucius was saying.  
  
Draco suppressed a sigh. "Yes, sir."  
  
The maid appeared, and she curtseyed. "Master Malfoy, young Master Malfoy, the courier is here."  
  
"Where?" Lucius said.  
  
"In the kitchen. I'll get her." The maid vanished. A minute later, the courier walked into the entrance hall. She bowed and held out a scroll. Lucius opened the message and read it. He pursed his lips. "Eight o'clock. Can you?" Lucius said.  
  
Draco met his father's cold eyes. "Yes."  
  
"Very well." Lucius stalked off; Draco bit his tongue. He turned to the courier; she was studying the wallpaper. The sound of the study door slamming echoed down the hall. Kahl's green eyes met Draco's.  
  
"You had better be sure of this, Master Malfoy."  
  
He narrowed his eyes at the courier. "I am," he said.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir. I meant no offense."  
  
"Then don't say things that you are in no position to say."  
  
Her eyes hardened, and she bowed. "Of course, sir." She left.


	7. Are You Sure?

Disclaimer: I do not own HP. Kahl is my character, as well as Sarah, some of the spells and books, and other such non-canon or basic grapevine stuff. Please respect that.  
  
-----  
  
Chapter 7

Are You Sure?

-----  
  
That evening, Draco and Lucius Apparated at the mansion at eight. "Wait here." Lucius entered the ballroom, and Draco sighed.  
  
A maid walked out of the room. No, it was Kahl. "Courier."  
  
She turned and bowed. "Yes, sir?"  
  
Draco glanced at the room, its tall doors now closed. "Do you know what they're doing?"  
  
"It is not my place say, sir."  
  
Draco nodded. "Do you still think I should doubt this?"  
  
"I did not say you should, sir, but one must be sure of their dedication if they are to become a Deatheater. It is not an action to be taken lightly."  
  
Draco rolled his eyes. "I know. Does everyone think I'm an imbecile?"  
  
The girl raised her eyebrows.  
  
"Never mind."  
  
She nodded and moved to leave.  
  
"Why aren't you a Deatheater?"  
  
"A lowly servant such as myself?"  
  
"One so entrusted as you, yes. If you wanted to be—"  
  
"It would eliminate my usefulness as a courier. We all serve where we can."  
  
"Of course." Draco thought for a moment. "What do you remember from your reading last summer?"  
  
Kahl laughed dryly. Draco blinked; he'd never heard her laugh before. "Most of it and too much to list now, sir," she said.  
  
"And of our discussions?"  
  
"Much of that, too."  
  
"I'm impressed."  
  
"It was very informative, and I try to remember what I learn."  
  
The doors opened; the girl bowed and walked away. A voice called from inside the room. "Enter."  
  
Draco went into the room. The Deatheaters watched him from the shadows of their hoods. He faced Voldemort. The inhuman face twisted into a smile. "Ready, young sir?" His voice held a mocking laugh.  
  
_"You had better be sure of this, Master Malfoy."_  
  
Draco pushed the courier's voice from his mind and bowed to Voldemort.  
  
"Good. At the bottom of the hill is a Muggle town. I'm sure you've seen it before."  
  
"Yes, master."  
  
"There's one Muggle who always walks at nine o'clock, no matter what the day or weather. I want you to kill him." Voldemort threw a knife to Draco. He caught it and stared at the blade. "Well?"  
  
Draco squared his shoulders, and he bowed. "Yes, sir."  
  
-----  
  
Kahl watched the three hooded figures walk out of the mansion and out of sight among the trees. She tapped her fingers against the windowsill. She smacked the windowsill and, turning away, stalked out of the room.  
  
She paused at the top of the steps; a few Deatheaters walked past the foot of the stairs. There were murmurs in the hall below. Kahl went back down the hall and to the servants staircase; she moved slowly down the narrow, rickety wooden stairs to the kitchen. She glanced at the clock. It was almost nine. She slipped out.  
  
The hillside was dark, but Kahl moved steadily over the smooth lawn. She slowed when she reached the trees, and she made her way through them, hands held out before her, eyes seeking out the almost invisible trunks. After some minutes, she saw a glimmer of moonlight ahead between the black tree trunks. She soon made it to the edge of the woods, and she listened intently. A shadowy figure rose up against the pale ribbon of the road. It turned; a red and silver blade gleamed in the moonlight. Kahl's breath caught in her throat, and she reached out to grab a tree. The figure was joined by two more, they removed a limp form, and they vanished into the trees. They passed a few feet away from her. Their footsteps faded in the distance, and Kahl sank down to the cold ground, her back against the rough tree trunk. She stared unseeing at the dark leaves for a long time.  
  
-----  
  
Draco dropped on his bed, and he looked up into the darkness obscuring the ceiling of his room. He could still sense the chaos, feel the cold hilt of the dagger warming in his palm and the fluid tickling slowly over his hand, hear the thump of the body against the hard-packed road...  
  
He threw the pillow over his face and shut his eyes tightly. He rubbed his palms hard against the satin cover of the pillow, but he couldn't rid himself of the feeling of drying liquid on his hands.


	8. Haunting Sorrows

Disclaimer: I do not own HP. I do own Kahl, _Magick of Warfare_, other various parts of this story, and the lint in my pocket. If anyone wants the lint, though, I'm willing to sell it.  
  
And no, I'm not sure I came up with that joke on my own. I know there was some inspiration there.  
  
Author's Note: I know this is extremely short, but enjoy anyway.  
  
-----  
  
Chapter 8  
  
Haunting Sorrow  
  
-----  
  
Dumbledore watched Kahl Rabrek enter his study. The girl's face was expressionless, but her eyes were shadowed. He motioned to the chair, and she sank into it. Dumbledore kept a frown from rising to his face. "How are you doing?" he asked.  
  
The jade eyes turned to him. "I'm alive."  
  
"You always say that."  
  
"It's always the truth." When Dumbledore didn't respond, Kahl looked up at the ceiling. "If I come in sometime as a ghost, I'll be sure to let you know."  
  
Dumbledore looked at her narrowly. Kahl had not made jokes for the last two years of her mission, and when she did, they had never been sarcastic like this. "If there's anything you want to talk about, you can."  
  
"I don't need to talk." She turned back to him. "You want my report."  
  
He nodded.  
  
"Draco Malfoy has become a Deatheater. He killed a Muggle. I . . ." Kahl's voice trailed off, and her eyebrows knitted.  
  
"Oh, Kahl, I'm sorry. It's not your fault."  
  
Kahl looked away.  
  
"Can you tell me what happened?"  
  
Kahl nodded after a moment, and she related the Deatheaters' meeting and her own actions, though with frequent pauses. When she was done, she sighed deeply.  
  
Dumbledore pursed his lips. She was only eighteen. After all his experience, especially with Harry, did he really think a child could do something like this? "Thank you. I know how difficult it can be to talk about such things."  
  
She watched Fawkes steadily.  
  
He sighed. "Is there anything else you have to tell me?"  
  
"No, sir."  
  
"Your cover is still safe?"  
  
"I believe so, sir. They have betrayed no suspicion."  
  
"Yes." He frowned into his beard. 'Of course not....' He waved a hand, and a tea set appeared. The comforting smell of peppermint drifted from a bowl of crushed leaves. "Would you like something before you go?"  
  
Kahl's eyes flickered towards him. "Thank you, sir, but I must return."  
  
"Of course. You may go." He stood as Kahl did. "There is just one thing I want you to remember. You couldn't do anything to save that man's life without risking your mission. It grieves me that he died, and if I could do—could have done—anything to change it, I would have. But your mission may help save the world. You could not risk your exposure. It is not your fault. I want you to remember that."  
  
She smiled bitterly. "It never is, is it, sir?" Before he could respond, her smile vanished, and she sighed. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that to you." She bowed. "Good day, sir." Then she was gone. 


	9. Stain

Disclaimer: I do not own HP. I do own Kahl, Magick of Warfare, and other various parts of this story.

Shout-outs

Miss Piratess: My most faithful reviewer! You get a Draco plushie. -

Don: Thanks for your comments. I'll take a looksie at the part with Nagini...and yes, Voldemort, Snake-man! (I just came up with that. I'll have to remember it. jots down notes)

Starfire23: Well, more chappies are up! I have a feeling it won't be finished before you leave, though. You'll just have to read it when you get back! glomps Love ya!  
  
-----  
  
Chapter 9  
  
Stain  
  
-----  
  
Draco heard the courier's voice and his father's tones in the entrance hall. It was the second time since the initiation that she'd arrived, both times on Saturdays, when both he and his father were home. Just a brief stop, to give a message...though she had brought none this time.  
  
Draco heard the main door shut, and he leaned back to look out the window. Kahl walked away from the house, her braid swishing slightly against her jacket. Though it was invisible, covered by the jacket, Draco remembered the sword, its hilt traced with red, and the warm fluid flowing over his hand. He snatched up his book and continued reading.  
  
-----  
  
Two weeks later, the Deatheaters attacked a Muggle village in the Yorkshire Dales. Kahl didn't even know about it until the day before. She went as soon as she could to a far town, Apparated to Hogsmeade, and sent an owl to Dumbledore, then returning to the mansion immediately. The next night, Wormtail returned from the attack. Kahl sat on her cot, her attention focused on listening, but her name was not called. Finally, when the eastern horizon showed the first faint wash of green, she lay down and went to sleep.  
  
-----  
  
Draco sat up and clutched his head. He looked at the grandfather clock in the corner. Twelve o'clock. Bright light showed from behind the curtains drawn over his windows. Twelve noon. He groaned and stood up, and he pulled a robe over his pajamas. He shuffled to the bureau and splashed water from a basin onto his face. He picked up his comb, but paused when he looked into the mirror. Shadows hung under crimson-shot eyes, and his skin was paler than normal, his mouth stretched thin. He went back to his bedroom and dug his wand out of the mess of robes piled on the floor. Returning to the bathroom, he heated the water and scrubbed it vigorously on his face, ignoring the pain as he rubbed his skin raw. He looked in the mirror and grimaced; now his face was red. But at least it didn't hold that ghastly, dead-fish pallor—  
  
Draco shook his head. He left the bathroom, combing back his hair, and he dressed quickly. He went downstairs to the dining room, where he sat down and rang a bell. Soon there were fresh fruit, eggs, thick bacon, and cool milk on the table before him. The maid left, and Draco wearily shoveled some eggs up with his fork.  
  
He and his father hadn't even returned until midnight, and that was after an only partially successful attack. It had started badly when they'd Apparated on the outskirts of town: One of the Deatheaters had been tripped up by a stray cat, and another had fallen over the first. Then there had been the shattering sound of glass, followed by a loud, painful explosion of sound, a scream from an injured witch, lights coming on, whining alarms...  
  
Since the Deatheaters did not want to expose themselves to the Muggle world yet, they had been forced to make an ungraceful retreat. The witch had been separated from the group by Wormtail.  
  
Draco considered the eggs. His stomach rebelled at the thought, and he dropped the fork. He massaged his temples. Lucius came in. "It's about time you woke up."  
  
Draco sighed. "Morning, Father."  
  
Lucius frowned. "It was a disgrace."  
  
"Unfortunately, none of us did well."  
  
"Some of us did our best."  
  
"And for some, the best is far below average," Draco said. Lucius raised an eyebrow. "I'm not talking about us, Father. I meant some of the other imbecilic wizard we have to tolerate."  
  
"Well, Crabbe and Goyle never gained high marks for intellect."  
  
"Their main value, father and son, is for obedient muscle." Draco smirked.  
  
Lucius chuckled dryly. "Next time, you will do your part better."  
  
Draco bit his tongue. "Yes, sir."  
  
Lucius swept from the room, and Draco went back to his breakfast. Or lunch. Whichever it was.  
  
After another weak attempt at eating, though, he swept from the room. He couldn't help remembering the night before. He had been next to the injured Deatheater. The witch, a newer recruit like himself, had simply screamed and clutched her leg. She had grabbed him, sobbing, and—  
  
Draco rubbed his arms briskly through the finely woven sleeves of his black robe. He grabbed his broomstick and left the manor. He stepped up onto the broomstick, and he pushed off. The rush of cool air past his face and in his hair refreshed him. He swooped over the trees, brushing the leaves. Memories fled from his mind, pushed out by the fresh green scents and bright, sun-filled sky, and he smiled.


End file.
